


Through My Fault

by rpb



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (but he's getting there), Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, May Parker Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Secret Identity, Sokovia Accords, Tony Stark Has Issues, Violence tag is for injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpb/pseuds/rpb
Summary: Peter is a kid from Queens who is breaking the law by existing. Tony is a billionaire whose denial of accountability will be his downfall.Peter forces him to face it, one way or another.—Divergence from Civil War where Spider-Man was never called in, the Sokovian Accords are enforced heavily, and Peter is just trying to help the people around him while avoiding the government's scrutiny. His luck runs out when he gets involved with Iron Man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching the entire MCU and had some ideas about my favorites: Stark and Parker. Specifically, Tony's characterization and how Peter could influence it. 
> 
> (I also read the actual Sokovian Accords and they're insane? So, this.)

Peter bubbled into consciousness, his first feeling one of pain. 

He was on his side, crumpled on a concrete floor. There was a hard pressure on his back and left shoulder, keeping him pinned. One arm throbbed in tune with his heart, the other completely numb from his shoulder. His head felt like hell, a pulsing of ache and lightheadedness. 

His legs were surely beneath him, but Peter wasn’t totally confident in the fact. His left was sore and bruised, but otherwise unharmed; his right was a mass of pressure and nerves at his knee, then nothing.

He couldn’t remember where he was, what had happened. There had been panic - a kiss from May and a mumbled promise. Someone shouting for help from their apartment. Peter diving toward them, a force of heat and noise and- 

Coughing.

Though, not from him.

He tensed, eyes searching through the darkness. The faintest light glowed from his suit, and he watched as dust dripped into his tiny space, slipping from a gap in the rubble.

Another bout of coughs… below him?

He inched his head down to look towards his chest, thoughts stalling. There was a little girl - a child - curled into his torso. She wheezed and cried as she tried to catch a mouthful of air.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice was barely a whisper, “Hey buddy, can you hear me?”

The kid turned at his voice, and Peter hissed as pain flared through his left side. She stopped moving as soon as she heard him falter, stuttering a ‘yes’ between gasps.

“A-alright, great. Well I’m Spider-Man, and I’m gonna keep you safe. Let’s— “ he let out a small hiss of pain as she twisted further, “— let’s not move too much, though. It’ll be like a game of hide and seek. We can stay still and wait here, and adults will come help really soon, alright? Whats your name?”

“Cathy,” she said. Then, “it hurts.”

“Alright Cathy, I’m right here. Where’s it hurt?”

“The dirt hurts my chest” Cathy was seized by another round of coughs, curling in on herself further. 

The only ‘dirt’ nearby was bits of concrete and ash, caking the ground around them. Peter had been breathing fine through his mask as the child — she couldn’t be older than six — had been wheezing beside him. He didn’t know how long they’d been there, how long she’d been breathing in dust while he slept.

Peter closed his eyes, his brows knitting as he took a deep breath. He waited for her coughs to ease. 

“Cathy? I have something that’ll help with the- the dirt. Do you want to be Spider-Man till help gets here?”

His right arm, numb, was pinned under Cathy, but his left was as mobile as the cramped space would allow. The whole of his left side felt on fire as soon as he shifted, but he was able to pull his mask from his face and over his head within a few seconds. He choked on dust as soon as the filter uncovered his nose and mouth. The spasms only worsened the pain in his side.

As soon as his own breathing had settled, he moved the mask into her reach. 

“Can you take this, and put it on? I know it’s hard to breathe right now, but if you put this on then the.. dirt.. won’t hurt any more. It’s just like putting on a hat. You think you can do that for me?” 

Cathy hesitated, sobs hitching as she listened to her hero, Spider-Man, Peter. The mask was far too loose, but her breaths seemed to ease further after she’d put it on.

Peter, meanwhile, tried to control his breaths as much as he could without his filter. The air around him was thick, particles constantly scratching at his throat and lungs. It hurt too much to keep his hand raised over his mouth, so he tucked his head to his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on moderating the pain of his side and knee. 

Cathy’s breaths were finally rhythmic. Peter asked if she hurt anywhere besides her chest, and sagged with relief when she said no. She slowed from bawling to muffled sobs, clutching at the thin fabric of Peter’s suit. Peter did his best to soothe her as she quieted and fell asleep, clearly exhausted.

Now that the girl was settled, Peter had the chance to re-gather his thoughts. His left arm felt badly burned even through the suit. His lower torso was a constant ache ever since he’d moved. The injury was elevated on his left, though, and Peter was thankful for the small mercy.

All that was left was his knee. It was out of sight, but Peter needed to know how bad the injury was. He tried to move it, once.

Now, Peter had taken metal shrapnel from Vulture’s exploded wings in stride. He’d endured knives from muggers, bullets from thieves and bombs from drones. One intense day, he’d even gone one on one with Iron Man, been battered by repulser bursts, and gotten out alive.

But nothing would compare to the lightning that raced through his leg and up his spine, once his knee moved. He screamed, his past battle injuries seemed like mere scrapes, the pain in his side and arm now insubstantial. 

It didn’t stop right way, either. Peter dissolved into tears, gasping through the shock to his nerves and struggling with each breath. He couldn’t do this again — not the rubble. Not the choking air, the crushing weight of rock over him. He would die, he would die and no-one would know and he couldn’t even lift anything this time. He had to protect this girl and himself and get out of this but he couldn’t, he couldn’t and they would both _suffocate_ and May would never know. May, who did everything she could to be okay with Peter and his hopes, and be supportive of him, who he would never see again because of his own actions— 

He just— 

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t consider it — not now.

Peter didn’t know how long it was until he composed himself again. He shut his eyes, completely focusing on his breath and his emotions and what we could feel. His arm and side still ached, but felt like pinpricks compared to the agony of his leg earlier. He needed to prioritize. Take what he could get, analyze his surroundings, find out what he and Cathy needed.

What they needed was a way out of this.

Peter was trapped under a building’s worth of rubble severely injured. The air in his chest was more parts dust than oxygen. Despite his enhanced lungs and immune system, the debris would eventually suffocate him. 

His side was a lance of pain, his arm throbbed, and his leg was… something…(Injured.) Hopefully ok. (Not something he wanted to linger on.)

Even if he couldn’t see it, he had to be bleeding somewhere - if not his arm and side then surely his knee. He’d be surprised if he didn’t have a concussion, but there was another level of lethargy to him that could only be from blood loss.

He’d somehow managed to save Cathy from harm, but unless someone got to them soon she might not make it, with grit already filling her chest. Peter didn’t know how long they’d been down there, if anyone was even aware they were trapped.

Peter grimaced, his thread of hope unravelling with each thought. 

If they were saved — and Peter couldn’t deny it was an _if_ at this point — he couldn’t hide his face. He wasn’t about to take his mask back from Cathy. Even if he had, Peter wouldn't be able to fight back if someone decided to take it off. Spider-Man’s identity would be out the second help arrived.

Cathy needed a way out of this. Peter needed a miracle.


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver Rosen didn’t arrive at the collapse until the dust had settled. 

Though, the air’s clarity made the sight in front of him all the more intimidating. Chunks of the former apartment complex were strewn across the lot, spilling into the street and blocking heavy equipment from coming through. Water burst from broken pipes and pooled below the rubble, while fires consumed what was left of support beams and fractured furniture. 

Witnesses said the building collapsed about an hour ago, but amid the crumbled stone and burning debris, time was kept by settled dust and rising smoke.

Search and rescue teams were still ambling across the wreckage, leading the survivors to families or ambulances. Oliver, meanwhile, made his way over to the make-shift command tent, checking over the building’s former inhabitants as he went. A few claimed they were saved by Spider-Man, though no one knew where he’d gone afterwards.

Lots of New Yorkers knew about the vigilante, now. About a year ago, videos started popping up online of a guy — a mutant, presumably — stopping petty crimes or saving people from crashed vehicles, clad in a hoodie and sweats. Oliver had been skeptical of the masked crusader along with the majority of Queens. Good intentions or not, it was clear the person was powerful, and that made him dangerous. Oliver’s life was spent helping clean up human messes, and now he had to worry about cleaning up non-human ones. 

Then, more media popped up online. Photos of Spider-Man with pedestrians, videos of helping old ladies across the street and returning bikes to their owners. His suit had improved as well over the months — less flimsy-looking, more form-fitting fabric, and goggles that weren’t bought at a pool supply store. Spider-Man transformed from a discount cop to a red-and-blue icon, all while benefiting the city.

Oliver had seen him swing by a couple times, and once, he saw Spider-Man in action. Not rescuing a cat or catching a thief, but sitting with a kid. Helping work through his math homework. Looking out for the little guy. He didn’t stay too long — he clearly had a city to patrol — but that interaction had stuck with Oliver. He didn’t suddenly follow @spider-watch on twitter or start checking out youtube videos, but he was a fan.

So, hearing Spider-Man had been on the scene made Oliver a bit more hopeful; it was probably the reason so many people made it out safely. Though, the one hero couldn’t save everyone, and that’s where Oliver, tactical rescue technician, and Teresa, his search and rescue dog, came in. They’d worked for years before the vigilante came about, helping search and rescue units across the state. Today was another work-day.

Or, so he believed as he entered the command tent. All the responders were working on a head count, and it became clear that only two people were unaccounted for.

Catherine Santino, age 6, and Peter Parker, age 16. 

“Rosen? Over here!” Oliver’s director motioned him over. “I need you in Section B. The rest of your team already started, but until more personnel arrive it might be slow-going. Bring your canine.” 

Oliver let Teresa work, nose sweeping back and forth in search of a scent, while he himself stepped lightly over rocky ground and kept an eye on his equipment’s readings. The acoustics device wasn’t the best in New York noise, but his own data plus that of his teammates would hopefully yield something useful.

It wasn’t long, however, before Oliver’s focus was interrupted by a clipped bark. His dog was out of sight, around a pile of rubble a couple dozen meters away. She came around the corner and looked at Oliver, barking again as she trotted towards him, intent on leading him back to her find. Oliver radio-d in to the rest of his team, then set off after her.

His group caught up with him as he rounded the corner of the rubble pile.

“Holy shit, is that Spider-Man?”

It… it was. He was pressed under a large block of concrete a few meters below, unmoving; his mask was gone.  
Oliver’s previous hope flickered out.

“He looks so… young?” 

“I thought he was a college student.”

“Is he breathing? Can you tell?”

“He’s with a kid — is that Catherine?”

Yes, Oliver realized. It was; she had Spider-Man’s mask.

The majority of the team couldn’t help but stare. The group hadn’t just found Spider-Man, they found him without his mask. Unguarded. He had brown hair, apparently. White skin. The rest of his face was too battered and gritty to see at Oliver’s distance, but the crumpled form of their neighborhood hero was imprinted on his mind nonetheless. 

“Okay — shit, okay.” Rosen had prepared for urban search and rescue; he could do this. Training was admittedly sans an unmasked hero, but protocol was the same. Preserve human life, vigilante or no. He knew that.

He just needed the rest of the team to remember too.

“Everyone, listen up!”

All eyes turned to him. Without the director nearby, Oliver was the senior technician. He cleared his throat, spoke as resolute as he could despite the anxiety creeping into his voice. 

The situation could go a multitude of ways, and Oliver had just a fraction of control over any of them. With the recent Sokovin Accords business, inhumans and mutants — and their identities — were on the wrong side of the justice system. That had always included Spider-Man, but he had seemed… untouchable. Despite his renown, today his fate was at the whim of strangers. Oliver knew where he stood on the laws — he’d say as much; he just prayed the others felt the same.

“I know this, clearly, isn’t what we were expecting,” Oliver said, “but below us there are two injured people. I hope I can speak for everyone when I say I care more about helping both of them, than figuring out who Spider-Man is. It doesn’t matter who he is. Both he and Catherine need medical attention, and we’re the ones who can get it to them as soon as possible. 

“NYC’s medical privacy policies still apply.” Both a lie and a challenge. Most of the team went with it, but a few searchers didn’t meet his eyes. Oliver made a mental note of who they were.

“Even if you disagree... I hope that no one would prioritize Spider-Man’s ID over caring for him. Helping these people is our job. If someone asks about your actions later on… that’ll be my problem as acting director. Right now, your focus is getting those two out of there. All good?”

No one seemed to oppose Oliver, but doubt pricked at his neck. For the first time in his life, trusting his team was a struggle.

“Alright, then let’s get moving.”

At this, the entire team surged into action. Each swarmed to their respective tasks — gathering equipment, notifying others of Catherine’s location, preparing medical teams. Oliver was left to check over the pair below.

Once he was safely equipped, Oliver advanced. Both figures were unconscious, though he couldn’t tell if it was from injury or exhaustion. Catherine seemed alright overall — no serious physical injuries besides light scrapes. The vigilante, on the other hand… Oliver’s heart sunk. He’d need to go to a hospital, and soon. It would be a lengthy process, waiting for machinery to lift the rubble as well as keeping people who saw his face to a minimum. And Oliver’s night wouldn’t end there; as much as his team needed to help these two, they still had to find— 

Peter Parker.

The blood drained from Oliver’s face, heart plummeting as his eyes flitted over the form of Spider-Man once more. The man— the _kid_ in front of him had to be Peter. Being so close made it undeniable; brown hair, lanky, sixteen years old, just like Peter’s description. If Peter’s eyes were open, Oliver was sure they’d be a deep brown. 

But, his face didn’t even twitch. His expression could be described as peaceful, if not for the pallor to his skin or matting of blood in his hair. His shoulder looked distorted, his entire left side compressed while one of his legs was swollen beneath a nasty piece of debris. 

Oliver had seen the man on the news. Logic dictated that Spider-Man had been in dangerous situations before and would be again; he’d be fine.

It was hard to imagine Spider-Man now, though. Oliver wasn’t looking at an infallible hero. He was looking at the person behind the mask: Peter Parker, who was trapped in a building collapse. Whose aunt had grabbed Oliver’s sleeve earlier that night with the plea to find her child.

Oliver’s shoulders sunk. This wouldn’t be an easy night for anyone.

“Hang in there.”

* * *

**10:23 PM**

[W E B Protocol Activated]

Source: Traffic Camera #062817  
Flag: Spider-Man Suit  
Validity: 12%

[Analyzing…]

* * *

**11:06 PM**

On any other day, the woman standing at the front of Metro General Hospital would not be a notable figure. You’d pass her by on the street without a second glance, without a thought or question spared her way. If you were made to interact, you might take in the grey strands in her hair or the light bags under her eyes, but ultimately she was another New Yorker in a city full of people, and you would go your separate ways.

It seemed she stashed away all her power — her fury and fierceness bottled until it was required of her. 

Today, her ferocity engulfed her.

She towered over the front desk of the hospital. Her loose hair was chalky with soot, clothes rank with smoke and fire. She stood tall and rigid; a stranger compared to her kind default, a fire lit at her core.

The cause of this change was both uncomplicated, and impossibly complex:

May Parker was looking for her child. 

Oliver Rosen was her key.

“Can you direct me to him?”

A volunteer stepped forward, somber while guiding her to where Rosen was waiting. They passed through the ER, May trailing past a young girl and her family leaving the building. May’s throat constricted when they left the ER area to enter a surgical waiting room.

The volunteer left after motioning towards a tired-looking man slumped in his chair, the only other person in the waiting area. Even so, May wouldn’t have recognized him if he hadn’t been pointed out. 

Rosen had clearly showered since May begged his help at the buildings’ collapse — he no longer had grime on his face or grit in his hair, but he looked like he’d dressed only half-present. A thick coat was tugged over a thin T-shirt, and faded jeans met a scuffed pair of dress shoes; beneath his seat was an old backpack. Beneath the clean face and change of clothes, May felt anxiety and exhaustion rolling off him in waves.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rosen? I’m May Parker, we spoke on the phone about…” she let the sentence hang, recognition lightning Oliver’s eyes as he faced her. The man shook her hand, both sorrow and warmth on his face.

“Hello Ms. Parker, it’s nice to speak with you in person, though, we did meet for a moment earlier…” Oliver fumbled. “Why don’t you sit down?”

She joined him, her question evident by the redness of her eyes and the shaking of her hands.

“Peter’s still in surgery, but they’ve said he’ll be out soon. They adjusted the procedure and sedatives based on his… abilities.” May met Oliver’s tired eyes, alarm spiking her bloodstream. May had only found out about Peter when the Accords were passed — he’d been so worried about the laws, he confessed everything to her — but it seemed a handful of strangers were now aware of his secret.

“How did you,” May asked, “How many people know?”

“I was the one to find him— in his suit. I won’t say anything. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you on the phone, but I figured…” 

They both knew the end to that sentence was ‘it wasn’t safe to talk about it there. 

“At any rate,” he said, “he entered the ambulance as Spider-Man, but entered the hospital as Peter Parker, so the general hospital staff only know him as a kid who was in the building rubble.

“His surgical team know he’s enhanced.” Oliver shrunk in on himself, guilt evident in his expression. “I’m sorry — again — but they took him in to operate as soon as he got here; they had to know what they were dealing with. I trust them, though — they’ve worked with people with similar... needs. Other than people here, a few from the search team might know about his, um, other identity. I don’t know how many of the rescue team made the connection between finding Spider-Man while looking for Peter, but realistically... I’d say it’s possible... ” 

May took a in a deep breath, trying and failing to steady herself. Her previous fire had faded to embers the longer Oliver had spoken; the flame had hollowed her out, and a cold wariness crept in to replace it. Fear threatened to overtake her; she wrapped her arms around her chest just to keep her hands from shaking. 

“Is he safe here?”

“As safe as I could make it,” Oliver replied, “but I also volunteer at this place… it’s friendly to enhanced people, more friendly than here, and less on the grid. I can talk with both of you about it later, if you want? Here, I have this.” Oliver dug through the pockets of his coat, pulling out loose one-dollar bills and wrapped gum sticks before finding a business card, then handing it to May.

She barely skimmed over it before asking a more pressing question.

“I know you gave me a summary when you called, but… what happened?” May twisted the paper in her grip, voice breaking on her. “Is he going to be okay?”

Oliver stared at his hands, voice softening. “Well, he saved a girl in the collapse — shielded her with his own body… it’s probably thanks to him she’s alive right now. Peter— Peter was unconscious when he came in. His left side was pretty banged up, his shoulder and chest, mostly. He’d been breathing in dust for a while, so his lungs were weakened... His knee was the worst of it, though. They had to extend the operation for it because they needed to,” he glanced at May, taking a breath, “they needed to remodel part of his leg. They think — it looked like he might’ve started to heal wrong.”

May choked, “can he walk?”

“I— I wouldn’t know, I’m sorry. The nurse I talked to says that he’s doing well; his abilities might have saved him in that respect, even if they started out the wrong way. I’m sorry.”

May silently nodded, her energy lost to emotion.

“He’s staying overnight; I’ll make sure you have a cot with him.”

* * *

**12:03 AM**

[W E B Protocol Analysis]

[Validity: 87%]

[Match Probable]

[Contacting Tony Stark]

* * *

“Sir, the containment designs are finished, and must be reviewed by you before they are sent to the client. I have added them to your priorities list. Additionally, there was a development with the W—”

Tony sighed, rubbing his face, “Mute.”

In the lab, FRIDAY’s audio went silent while the blinking light on Tony’s holoscreen persisted. Yet another notification piled on top of the many projects he had to work through, and this one was probably the worst of them.

The ‘client’ in this case, Secretary Thaddeus Ross, had requested upgrades on his inhuman containment equipment. Tony had immediately shoved the project off to Research & Development, but now apparently the designs were complete, and Tony had to review them himself before they were given the go-ahead.

There were, however, a million other things he’d rather be doing. Thor and Bruce were still missing, the ‘Rogue Avengers’ (as the media had dubbed them) were avoiding Tony’s search algorithms with more skill than Ross would have liked, Vision was off who-knows-where, and Tony really needed to update his Arc Reactor’s protective plating. Rogers had driven his shield straight through the Iron Man suit, and Tony was determined to avoid that particular issue again, thank you very much. Preferably _before_ he saw the captain again.

So, Tony proceeded to ignore the inhuman containment equipment and continued his work on the suit plating anyway. Naturally.

With FRIDAY quieted and a fresh coffee in hand, Tony got back to work. He already had a number of old chest pieces strewn across his work desk, both new and old models. He started an easy routine: cut out the old plating, replace it with a new prototype, test it’s durability. If it survives the first experiment, put it to the right for the next round. If not, put it to the left and write down where it went wrong. 

After a couple minutes, it became clockwork.

After a dozen, Tony’s mind betrayed him and wandered back to the containment equipment.

He wasn’t keen on improving the designs. The tools weren’t weapons, per se; he’d designed them for controlling threats and protecting officers. And yet, he had to swallow the taste of bile whenever they were brought up; the image of Scarlet Witch in a collar and straightjacket wouldn’t fade from his mind. 

Of course, he reasoned, Wanda was just dealing with the consequences of her actions. Tony had warned her not to, but she’d joined up with Captain Asshat anyway back in April. Not Tony’s fault. Besides, Cap freed the team from the Raft anyway, so she wasn’t in them for long. A couple weeks, really. Nothing detrimental, just inconvenient.

It was clear-cut, and Stark couldn’t get it out of his head. Why did it bother him, when the restraints were just the consequences of Wanda’s actions?

Interesting question, but he was busy.

Tony stood back from his work to survey it, limbs heavy; the lateness of the hour had begun to catch up with him. He glanced between the chestplates piled to his right and the blinking red light on his holoscreen — FRIDAY still trying to contact him. Tony sniffed, wiping his arms with a clean rag before making himself a double espresso and moving to a cleaner desk.

“Alright, FRI, unmute. What’s next?”

“Sir, there’s been a development on the WEB-Net protocol.”

That gave Tony pause. Not Ross then, but the elusive vigilante of NYC — Queens, specifically.

“Have you filtered it yet?” 

“Yes. The flag has gone through multiple vetting systems before notifying you personally, as you programmed—“

“Right, right.” Right. The first time his spider-finder pinged, it alerted all of the remaining Avengers, the Accords’ enhanced suppression unit, and Secretary Ross himself. Tony had gotten an earful for that one after it turned out to be a false-alarm, so now WEB’s notifications only bothered Tony, and he’d have to verify it before sending it off. “So? What’s our supposed spider-guy up to?”

“Medical treatment.” FRIDAY opened the information on Tony’s holoscreen as she spoke. “The Web-Net protocol was activated at 10:23 PM last evening, after the suspect’s suit was recognized through a traffic camera. He was transported into an ambulance belonging to Metro General Hospital—“ _General Hospital? Strange._ “—but it appears his mask was missing. The image quality is too poor to run facial recognition, and a search team reportedly cleared the area to protect his identity as he boarded the ambulance. Suspect was rescued from a building collapse on the same street, wearing a high-tech Spider-Man suit.”

“How do you know it was high-tech?”

“Paramedics had to use special equipment to cut through it’s wiring. Suspect also had complex devices on his wrists, presumably to control the webbing released from his system.”

Stark took in FRIDAY’s report. WEB had been tripped less and less as the algorithm improved. Dozens of impersonators had been flagged by the system, but it either learned from each of them, or Tony made adjustments to the protocol as necessary. Usually, the flags were proven false once the suit was analyzed — most were just scraps of fabric in homage to Spider-Man. For this guy to actually have the tech integrated into his suit… 

“Says here the match probability is… _87%?_ ” Tony’s brows shot up. Most ‘matches’ were in the 50-60% range. “That’s— I’m guessing it’s so high because of the suit? What’s the other thirteen percent?”

“The margin of error is ±4.3% due to lack of hospital information. The remaining 17.3 - 8.7% difference is based on the camera’s accuracy and WEB’s analytics, as well as the suspect’s stature.”

“How so?” 

“His age is anomalous. He appears to be in his mid-teens, sir.”

Tony’s world fractured a bit at that. 

Not quite a shatter, but it was a close thing.

Mid-teens? As in, 14-15 year-old, right? 

Not possible. There was no way the guy Tony had fought a few months ago was that young. The Spider-Man he fought took multiple hits from the Iron Man suit, quipped about the power output, then swung off somewhere Tony didn’t bother to follow. The kid had saved Tony Stark’s multimillion-dollar jet from a _super-villain birdman_ with alien-powered metal wings, taken nothing for himself despite being on the government’s Hit List, and then what? Did his physics worksheets? 

“Sir, despite his approximate age, this percentage is the highest on record. It is recommended that you contact Secretary Thaddeus Ross of your finding—“

“No- no.” Tony sighed, trying to figure out what the hell the WEB protocol, and apparently the young vigilante, had gotten themselves into. If he could, Tony wanted to recruit the kid before calling in the suppression unit — it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more people on the remaining Avengers team. “As much as I’d love to wake him up at two in the morning, the prick can wait. Do we have an ID on Spider-M— Boy? Spider-Boy?” Still not accepting that. “The patient?”

“The ambulance is not registered to have arrived at the hospital with a patient,” FRIDAY said, “The suspect likely escaped or was unofficially transferred to a different facility.” 

“Ok, so he planned for the possibility... Or he has someone in his corner? Look into the search team that found him, see if they know anything.” And, his espresso was gone. Time to either dive through the files FRIDAY pulled up from WEB, or finally work on Ross’s containment designs.

…It wasn’t a hard choice.

Tony began pulling details out from the WEB holoscreen reports, the caffeine finally making it into his system. If Spider-Man was taken from a building collapse… what about bystanders? “FRIDAY, what’s the address of the building collapse? Were there any on-scene witnesses?” 

“The building was in a residential zone… It was listed as an apartment complex. All but two individuals were evacuated by Spider-Man before the structure fully collapsed. Social media and news reports indicate he still had his mask at the time.”

“And the other two found in the rubble? Any chance they saw him without it?”

“Catherine Santino, age six, daughter to—“ 

“A six-year-old? I don’t exactly think she’d be a reliable witness, FRI. Next?”

“Peter Parker, age sixteen, parents deceased. He lived with his aunt in their shared apartment.”

Tony leaned forward, swiping through text as he skimmed their info. “Not great, then, but not impossible. Keep checking out the search and rescue team — and add the ambulance paramedics, if you can find them. Where’s the Parker kid now?”

“All rescued individuals were directed to Metro General Hospital once found. Ms. Santino was dismissed to her parents with minimal injury, while Mr. Parker is staying overnight after an intensive surgery to his knee, along with his guardian.”

This kid could finally help Tony get a lead on Spider-Man.

_Well,_ Tony thought, _what better way to recover than meeting Iron Man?_

“Schedule a flight for NYC, leaving tomorrow. I’m thinking Thai food on the trip… You thinking Thai? I’m going Thai, it’s decided — Let the jet team know.”

Sure, it’d be easier if they could hack into the hospital files or search teams’ rosters, but Ross had made it clear that if they were going to sign the Accords, everything had to be on-book. No breaking into closed servers, no tapping into camera footage that wasn’t his, etc etc. 

Definitely no conversing with vigilantes, but c’mon… Tony had to make it fun somehow, and a new Avenger would be worth it.

In his defense, Tony wasn’t actually going to talk with Spider-Man, just a potential lead on the guy. No harm no foul.

Right?

Right.

...right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote "just a bit longer than the last chapter!"
> 
> The first was about 1,000 words and this one is about 4,000? That was a kinda wild jump for me, and why this took so long to churn out.
> 
> So, I'm definitely still getting used to writing. 
> 
> Speaking of, your guys' response to even the first chapter blew me away. That was so above and beyond what I expected? I have _kudos!!_ That's super exciting for me! Thanks to everyone who leaves kudos, bookmarks, and comments; every notification in my inbox is a blessing tbh.
> 
> Check back soon for the next chapter! I just made a Tumblr because of this, so you can check there for updates:[ hey-its-rpb ](http://hey-its-rpb.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you again soon!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic but I've got big plans for it! Please leave a review and/or feedback - any comments will really help me figure out my written voice and how I want to go about this. Both readers and writers can help me with different perspectives!
> 
> I'll update ASAP - thank you all so much for reading!


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